


Flurries

by grayorca, YearwalktheWorld



Series: Triverse [8]
Category: Castle Rock (TV), Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, Family, Fluff, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:58:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grayorca/pseuds/grayorca, https://archiveofourown.org/users/YearwalktheWorld/pseuds/YearwalktheWorld
Summary: AU/Crossover. In which the Michigan weather provides its own inspiration.Results may vary.





	Flurries

**Author's Note:**

> Just an excuse to write fluff with our boys. <3
> 
> Takes place between chapters five and six of _Trifecta_.

If you don’t like the weather, just wait five minutes, as they say. ****  
** **

Preposterous. How was that phrase supposed to encapsulate the science of actual weather patterns in any way, shape, or form? ****  
** **

Five minutes after the taxi broke down, the snow squall hadn’t abated. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

_Fault detected. Shutting down. We apologize for the inconvenience._ ****  
** **

The automated vehicle navigated itself onto the shoulder of the road. Traffic following along behind swerved by. Seated in the front passenger seat, his partners having taken the back, Connor leaned forward to inspect the fritzing dashboard readouts. ****  
** **

Vehicular error messages were so inherently vague. Unless one was an android, or simply in the know of such designs, the average patron of Detroit Taxis would have been notified on the spot, informed a replacement was on the way, and not told the particulars of what had caused their current chariot to malfunction. ****  
** **

Considering the blustery, frosty conditions outside, Connor wasn’t too surprised to think a replacement simply wasn’t immediately available. ****  
** **

That was fine. They weren’t expected to reach Central Station for another forty minutes, twenty-two seconds. ****  
** **

Or so he thought.

Then he recalculated.

——- ****  
** **

Seated next to one of the windows, Nick peered outside, one hand resting on the glass, before turning back to them with a half-concealed grin, as if he were planning something. And when Nick was planning something, it was either incredibly off track or was destined to end poorly. ****  
** **

Or both. ****  
** **

“There's a - snowy lot right out there, you two. Do you see it?”  ****  
** **

Maybe there was. A few such lots had been razed and cleared of their old structures. This one was framed on three sides by the backside of a brick, four-winged apartment complex. ****  
** **

Connor didn’t glance up. To do so was, in and of itself, an acknowledgment. ****  
** **

Dennis, comfortably slouched down in his seat, took one look and frowned. “So it is. …What about it?” ****  
** **

“Well, the next taxi isn't gonna be here for awhile,” Nick began, already seeming to try and justify whatever he was about to do. One of his hands creeped down to the door handle. “And you know, you always say to start taking our roles more seriously. I think that lot is sorta suspicious… we should investigate it.”  ****  
** **

“Suspicious, how?” Dennis deadpanned, veering more toward sardonic with every syllable. He glanced sidelong at the lot in question - a snowy expanse dotted with some shrubbery and flanked by two giant oaks. “Does it look like there might be a body somewhere under all that snow?” ****  
** **

“Perhaps,” Nick said as thoughtfully as he could, unlocking the car door as discreetly as he could manage. “All the more reason to investigate, right? C'mon, Dennis, please?”  ****  
** **

“We’re not even dressed for it,” the shorter android protested, but he didn’t put too much annoyance into the statement. “You know the talking-to we’ll get if we trash _another_ set of uniforms.” ****  
** **

“Please?” Nick's eyes went wide to match his pleading tone, already shifting closer to the door to make a break for it if he was allowed. “Maybe there is something, though, then we did good! And if not, we checked… it's good either way. Please, Dennis?”  ****  
** **

Miming a staticky sigh, Dennis glanced at their absentee partner. Either Connor was genuinely distracted, or doing his damnedest to appear so. ****  
** **

Again, maybe it was a little of both. ****  
** **

“So long as there are no _objections_ …” Letting the thought hang, only for it to go unanswered, Dennis shrugged. “After you, then.” ****  
** **

Giving him a grin, Nick opened the door - before sprinting into the lot, somehow disappearing from view entirely in a matter of moments. If it wasn't obvious before that he was planning something, it was now.  ****  
** **

_Door is open._ ****  
** **

Thank you, Detroit Taxis. ****  
** **

“He doesn’t actually expect to find something out there, right?” ****  
** **

Shaking his head, Dennis climbed out. _You’ll be the first to hear if he does, Connor._ ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Oh, he found something all right. ****  
** **

The first round caught Dennis dead center in the forehead. ****  
** **

The taxi door had barely clicked shut behind him. Reeling back, the android put a hand out for balance. Spluttering, he used the other to try and wipe the slushy fragments from his face. Grit from the already-melted fragments settled unpleasantly around his eyes. ****  
** **

Sand. Whatever terrain lay beneath the carpet of snow, it was by no means grassy. ****  
** **

Very much after the fact, Dennis remembered to feel offended. ****  
** **

“Really?!” ****  
** **

Head popping up from around the corner of one of the buildings, Nick let out a burst of laughter at his indignant face, before his hand went up with his next projectile and took aim, throwing it with more precision than he had ever shown before in officially-sanctioned target practice.  ****  
** **

Only to quickly duck back behind the building before Dennis could be hit and retaliate, if he chose to.   ****  
** **

The second round splattered across the victim’s shoulder, momentarily obscuring his model and serial numbers. ****  
** **

Not a kill shot, but certainly enough to incite a response. ****  
** **

“You little - you think _now_ is the time to play?” ****  
** **

At least a few hundred apartment windows faced the lot. They had an appearance to maintain. CyberLife would not be pleased if photos of their prototypes engaged in a snowball fight began circulating on social media. ****  
** **

_Snowball fight!_ Nick cried out through the commlink, clearly pleased with himself for the two shots, and the idea in general. Of course he would put more effort into having fun than their given model’s criminal prosecution tasks, ever. _Come here, Dennis, around the building!_ ****  
** **

Behind his ear, he heard a _whirr_ as a window lowered. “Dennis…” ****  
** **

Ignoring that, as much as he declined to answer the invitation, Dennis crossed the lot. Clumps of snow fell from his shoulder as he went. There was nothing he could say to appease Connor, any more than he could talk Nick out of this foolery. ****  
** **

They might as well make the most of it. ****  
** **

Declining the thought to arm himself (yet), he peeked around the corner, only to immediately jerk back. ****  
** **

A third snowball sailed through the air where his head had been. ****  
** **

Again letting out some laughter, Nick had somehow found a way to quickly climb his way up the building’s nearest fire escape, giving himself higher ground, some ready-made snowballs in his grasp. He had prepared himself well, in the matter of a minute or two. Where was this energy any other time?  ****  
** **

A fourth sailed past the corner, not an actual shot, but an invitation for Dennis to come back into his line of fire.  ****  
** **

Watching as it plunked harmlessly into the snow, Dennis realized what advantage he had. ****  
** **

That fire escape didn’t have an infinite supply of ammo. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Peppered by at least five shots, tossed with seconds of each other, the iron edifice upon which he perched didn’t seem so practical all of a sudden. ****  
** **

“Now come back down here and make this fair!” ****  
** **

“Fine, fine!” Nick shrieked, before laughing again as he wiped his face clean of snow. It was worth it, getting pelted with them if Dennis decided to join in. Spending every day at the office got monotonous, sometimes. Hank ‘babysat’ him, as he had said, but there was only so much Nick could focus on before he grew bored.  ****  
** **

The taxi breaking down en route was a blessing in disguise, with the amounts of fresh snow accumulating outside. For days he had been imagining being outside in it - without a case. ****  
** **

All work and no play - small wonder why androids by and large were considered so dull and commonplace. ****  
** **

Smirking, all sense of conduct momentarily abandoned, Dennis hefted one sphere and posed for a throw. “You’re not off of there in two seconds, this one’s going between your eyes.” ****  
** **

“I'm coming down!” Ducking, just in case Dennis threw early, Nick clambered down the fire escape as quickly as he could, jumping down into the snow at the first floor’s steps, one hand automatically going down to scoop a snowball up.  ****  
** **

He stopped short of standing back up. ****  
** **

“Don't you dare move,” he said, as seriously as he possibly could in the situation, snowball pointed at Dennis accusingly. “Or you're eating this.”  ****  
** **

The smirk didn’t abate. Slowly, his opponent drew back, rolling the readied shot between his hands, like an edgy baseball pitcher. “Why not? We’ll actually see who’s faster in such a scenario. Count of three?” ****  
** **

Nick tried to frown at the challenge, before letting out another burst of laughter instead. Why not, indeed? He copied Dennis, tossing his own snowball from one hand to the other, taking a wider stance. “On the count of three. No cheating!”  ****  
** **

“No cheating. One…” ****  
** **

“Two…” ****  
** **

“Ha!” ****  
** **

He hesitated. ‘Ha’ was not a commonly accepted number. ****  
** **

Within that span of only a few seconds, Dennis only proved he was a quintessential cheater. He lobbed the snowball with perfect form and speed. His target ducked, sending it glancing off his head to splatter against the bricks. ****  
** **

“Cheater!” Nick cried out, throwing his own snowball in retaliation, but with the combination of not looking and being on the defensive, only managed to get his partner’s shoulder. He went back down for another one immediately, throwing it with more precision so it hit him square in the chest, even as Dennis backed up rapidly.  ****  
** **

“I said no _cheating!”_ At that, he scooped yet another one, unable to stop himself from grinning at Dennis as he made to throw it.  ****  
** **

The shorter android wheeled backwards around the corner, back to relative safety. His grin was positively impish. “Yeah? And what’s the penalty, huh? You never said.” ****  
** **

“Snowball to the face,” Nick replied, taking his own, more cautious steps forward to trap Dennis by the wall. It was only just, for the treachery he displayed - two was not three. “It's only fair, cheater.”  ****  
** **

“Life isn’t fair, Nick. I was only demonstrating one of the many ways it’s true. You think any armed suspect would give you the courtesy of a countdown?” ****  
** **

At that, Nick frowned, hand with the snowball lowering. What was with the sudden, impromptu lesson? They were just having fun, no need to make it serious. Unless that was Dennis's plan to distract him?  ****  
** **

The suddenly-serious face told him otherwise, though.  ****  
** **

“Stop it,” he whined, crossing his arms with some indignation. They were supposed to have fun, not have him be lectured! “I know they wouldn't, I was just joking around, Dennis.”  ****  
** **

“Hey, I oughta have taught you something meaningful in time it takes that replacement taxi to get here,” his opponent retorted, jabbing a thumb in the direction of their abandoned ride. “If I don’t, you know Connor will.” ****  
** **

“Connor…” he trailed off, before simply letting the snowball fall out of his hand. Having a snowball fight with Dennis was incredible fun, but if the two of them could somehow rope their primary into it… that would be a once in a lifetime opportunity, right? “Dennis, I'm calling a truce, for a moment.”  ****  
** **

The grin was back. “You still owe me a snowball to the face, though.” ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

_“...Well, I could’ve been an actor, but I wound up here… I just have to look good, I don’t have to be clear…”_ ****  
** **

For all it’s apparent problems, at least the taxi’s radio worked. One call to the depot assured him a replacement ride was on the way. The automated voice apologized for the inconvenience (yet again) and informed him it would be approximately fifteen minutes before it arrived. ****  
** **

Ten minutes later, Connor had effectively zoned out to a classic rock station. ****  
** **

For no other reason than he could, really. ****  
** **

_“You don’t really want to know just how far it’s gone, just leave well enough alone, keep your dirty laundry…”_ ****  
** **

_I Can’t Stand Still._ Don Henley. Circa 1982. ****  
** **

Somewhere toward the end of the song, he remembered where his partners had gotten away to. Their reasoning for doing so was about as transparently baseless as any yellow journalism story. ****  
** **

Still, Connor knew better than to try and dissuade them by this point. They were going to behave how they saw fit. Hank Anderson was both their best possible ally and worst role model rolled into one. Were the lieutenant here, he probably would have waved them off the task without a second thought. ****  
** **

_Go amuse yourselves while Connor does something like actual work - again. No, don’t worry. He’s good for it. And even if he wasn’t, that wouldn’t stop him, right?_ ****  
** **

Right. ****  
** **

Someone had to stick to their program. ****  
** **

It was typically the only time Connor enjoyed something like easy conversation with Hank. They may have had their differences, but when it came to police work, there was at least that common denominator. As much as Anderson came across like a work-ducking, depressive-aggressive mess, that was only his prickly exterior. ****  
** **

Inside, he still gave a damn. ****  
** **

Anger wasn’t a sign of indifference. It was just the opposite. ****  
** **

And it was an emotion not too many shades far off of frustration - ****  
** **

_Fwwwsssh!_ ****  
** **

Snapping out of his reverie, Connor blinked at the mess of half-melted slush that had coated one side of the taxi. Looking down the street, he saw the retreating tail lights of a city plow truck hugging the curb. Messy, salty streaks snailed their way down the tinted windows. ****  
** **

Moments later, the dashboard chimed. ****  
** **

_Your replacement has arrived. Please commence transfer._ ****  
** **

He saw the headlights, caught in the rear view camera. One minute behind estimated schedule. That explained the holdup. The second taxi wouldn’t try to overtake a vehicle three times its gross weight only to stop and be demolished. ****  
** **

For another moment, he hesitated. The briefest idea of continuing on alone crossed his mind. ****  
** **

Then he tried the comm. ****  
** **

_Dennis, did you find anything? …Dennis? ...Nicholas, are you receiving this?_ ****  
** **

There was no reply, not even a one-word response. Just silence answered back. ****  
** **

He waited another minute, listening to the idle tick of blinking hazard lights before trying again. ****  
** **

_If either of you are listening, the replacement is here. We can continue on to Central Station now._ ****  
** **

More silence. ****  
** **

Connor kept his seat. He knew silent bait when he heard it. ****  
** **

_Is that how it’s going to be? Radio silence? …You know we have a timetable to abide by today. …I won’t be explaining to the lieutenant_ who _or what held us up. …I_ **_won’t_** _._ ****  
** **

His threat seemed to have no merit. The decided lack of answer was as unnerving as it was (slightly) irritating. Not to mention there was only so much fruitless arguing one could do with expectant quiet. ****  
** **

_…Don’t make me come get you. Please._ ****  
** **

Not even a plea for him to come over, or a begrudging answer - more silence met him, even with the multiple messages. Was it concerning, though, or just good impulse control on the other two's part?  ****  
** **

If it were the former, he was certain they wouldn’t be shy about crying for help. ****  
** **

(Yes, _crying._ Dennis had to be as capable of it as Nick.) ****  
** **

Connor was not keen to play the holdout game, in either case. ****  
** **

Watching the last of the grimy slush slide from the windshield, he begrudgingly hit the door release. His chair rotated around. The starboard side panels split and parted. ****  
** **

Four minutes behind schedule. ****  
** **

They were _going_ to regret this. ****  
** **

——- ****  
** **

Besides a few blind corners, the oak trees, and some raised snowdrifts, there weren’t too many places to hide. Scanning the myriad of footprints, displaced handfuls of frozen H2O, and scuff marks, all he managed to conclude that his partners had indeed been here recently. The fire escape the prints led back to was suspiciously vacant. ****  
** **

Was there more than one exit? Had they gone inside the apartment complex? Had they simply up and left without saying so, for reasons all their own? ****  
** **

Scanning the oak trees’ lower branches, the first round knocked into his shoulder. It was closely followed by one striking dead center of his upper back. ****  
** **

Flinching, checking the impulse to reach for an absent firearm, Connor wheeled around. ****  
** **

A second later, realizing no error windows had accosted his eyes, he figured out the ‘bullets’ were not metal at all. ****  
** **

“Honestly?!” ****  
** **

The third - at least twice as big as the first salvo - smacked him in the face. ****  
** **

Nick, half-covered in snow himself, shook it off of his shoulders, still kneeling in the snow. One hand held a few snowballs, the other just one, still aimed at Connor. Where had he come from? _Under_ the snow?  ****  
** **

He let out some laughter at the indignant anger in Connor's voice after the fact, shuffling backwards, still on his knees.  ****  
** **

“ _This_ is what you’ve been doing?” ****  
** **

His answer was an irrefutable yes - the fourth snowball striking the back of his head. ****  
** **

Dennis didn’t want to be left out of the altercation, it seemed. ****  
** **

Raking snow from his hair with a few furious swipes, Connor did his best not to seethe further. “You know we’re expected at 3rd Avenue by 10:00 AM. It’s 9:4- knock it off!” ****  
** **

“Attack!” Nick cried out, throwing his next snowball as fast as he could before getting to his feet, two more snowballs at the ready in his arms. For however long they had been waiting for Connor to come willingly walking into their ambush, it seemed the two of them were determined to make the most out of the situation.  ****  
** **

By the seventh hit, their victim stopped spinning in place and clammed up, arms folded. Spluttering and ranting were no defense against the onslaught. Whatever dignity he might have claimed to own would only suffer further with every passing hit. ****  
** **

How often did one of them get to play the target dummy anyway? ****  
** **

Dennis circled to a stop after lobbing several throws. The grin on his face only melted once he realized how much of a fight wasn’t being put up in return. ****  
** **

“What, Connor? Come on. Can’t we just take the time to decompress now and then?” ****  
** **

Coated with frost, and fragments of detonated rounds, the primary only fixed him with a very quietly-raging sideways glare. ****  
** **

“Honestly, you’re doing us a favor.” ****  
** **

“It's more fun when we all throw them,” Nick complained, stopping his own campaign as well. “But we'll keep throwing them at you, even if you won't move.”  ****  
** **

“You _know_ we’re expected elsewhere,” Connor retorted, unyielding as a stubborn principal. Or so he hoped he was conveying. “This is not the time for it.” ****  
** **

“It's just some stress relief,” Nick defended himself and Dennis, arms crossing with moodiness, face downward and drawn. “It's boring, at the police station, sometimes.”  ****  
** **

“Boring? You do anything except work there. Are you not _entertained_?” ****  
** **

Dennis scoffed at the borderline-sardonic tone, readying another ball. “Well, if you’re just gonna be a dick about having fun, we’ll tell Lieutenant Anderson all about it. Not that his opinion matters to you or anything.” ****  
** **

“It's fun, Connor,” Nick scooped back down to get another snowball of his own, eyes going up to plead with him silently. It would certainly be more fun if he retaliated, it seemed. “We're not doing anything wrong.”  ****  
** **

Not by their definition, no. ****  
** **

But it wasn’t on the same wavelength as his. Not at all. ****  
** **

What did Anderson’s opinion matter? Only in the sense of seeing a given mission to completion. They could agree on that much, and that much alone. To want to garner any more approval than that was to want too much. ****  
** **

And Amanda wondered why he was having difficulties staying objective. ****  
** **

“Just throw one, c'mon,” Nick continued to beg him, even as he stood back up and made to throw his own. “It's fun, Connor, really!”  ****  
** **

There was already enough leftover material caught cradled in his arms. He could fashion one such projectile from it. Just one. ****  
** **

Would that be enough to satisfy them? ****  
** **

Hands held around his newest shot, Dennis raised both eyebrows. “Nah. He’s too slow to hit us, Nick. Having fun isn’t part of his program, remember?” ****  
** **

Nick's eyes widened at the words, before he grinned at him. “You're probably right. It would've been unfair, anyways, given our skill.”  ****  
** **

‘Skill’? That’s what they called this farce of a pastime? ****  
** **

What were they saying? He wasn’t adaptable? ****  
** **

“Wouldn’t know what to do with this if I… Here, I’ll make it easy.” Truce momentarily called, Dennis strode over. Using one hand he pried the taller android’s arms apart, uncurling one of the half-clenched fists. “See? Just like holdin’ a baseball. Then you just have to aim and - owmph!” ****  
** **

Aim and smash. ****  
** **

As opposed to aim and throw. ****  
** **

The reverse-impression of Dennis’ face turned out quite definable on the snowball’s backside. ****  
** **

“Connor!” Nick gasped, wheeling backwards at the action, before a little burst of laughter took over him at the sheer surrealness of the moment. Almost gagging on the snow, Dennis stumbled, gagged, and tried to claw it from his face. “You can't - that's not nice!”  ****  
** **

“Then why are you laughing?” ****  
** **

Because, as it turned out, the punishment was not an unfit one. ****  
** **

He had simply saved Nick the trouble.


End file.
